Page 13 of Sparring Partners
Adrian stared up at him. A pile of papers littered the table, ignored, as his large hands all but strangled his mug of coffee. His usual gruff exterior seemed even more impenetrable today, his furrowed brow and posture tense and rigid.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise this table was taken.” Luca looked around. Other than opposite Adrian, there wasn’t a spare seat to be seen.
Adrian shrugged. “Sit here if you like because I’ll be going soon. I hope.” He stacked the papers into an untidy heap.
Luca bristled, but with no other available place and with Declan already crossing the café floor with his coffee, he had no choice but to take the one spare seat.
“Any news yet?” Declan set the coffee down, all his attention on Adrian.
“No. They’ll call me as soon as they’re done. I was advised to go home, but I couldn’t. I prefer to hang around in the village, so I can get there quickly.”
Declan squeezed Adrian’s shoulder, his face creased in sympathy. “He’ll be okay because he’s in good hands. More than good, the best. Let me know when you hear back, okay?”
Adrian nodded, his face tight. “I will. Thanks, Declan.”
With Declan’s departure, a heavy silence took a seat at the table.
He? A brother or friend? A lover?
Adrian looked up, his eyes dull and heavy. Dark smudges stained the skin beneath his eyes, visible beneath his tan. He looked like he’d not slept in weeks.
“My dog, in case you’re wondering. Spud. You saw him at the farm.”
Luca nodded. That charged, tense visit to Ladywell Farm. The collie, who’d gazed up at Adrian with adoration in his eyes, as Adrian had petted him, his spiky, touchy manner softening and bringing a bright, warm smile to his face.
“Yes, I remember. Is he ill? I’m sorry.”
“He is. They’re running some tests. I brought some paperwork with me. Thought it might stop me brooding, but…”
Worry etched deep in Adrian’s face. Beneath the tan of a life lived outdoors, his face was pallid, his scruff a dark shadow. Adrian rubbed his eyes, and Luca’s fingers itched to ease Adrian’s hands away as a pang of sympathy twisted in his stomach.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Luca said, his voice softening. “I had a dog a few years back. Pickles. He was very unwell for months. It was tough.”
“Pickles?” One of Adrian’s dark brows arched high.
Luca gave a quiet chuckle. “I know it’s a twee name, but it was perfect. He was always getting himself in a pickle. He was a miniature dachshund, dopey as they came, and had a talent for getting wedged into small spaces. He could get himself in, but never out.”
Adrian huffed out a laugh, but it was replaced with an awkward silence as he stared into his coffee. Over the rim of his cup, Luca scanned the café for a free table, but nobody was going anywhere.
“Is everything going well with the deliveries to the hotel?” Luca already knew the answer, but he had to say something to fill the gap.
“Yes, everything’s as it should be.”
“Good.” It meant he and Adrian wouldn’t have to meet again. Which was fine by him.
“Love Books.”
“Sorry?”
Adrian nodded to the bag Luca had placed on the floor beside his chair. “I always loved reading, but since taking over the farm I never seem to find the time.” Adrian’s mouth twisted up in a regretful smile, and his gaze snapped from the bag to Luca.
Luca’s hold on his mug tightened. Such beautiful eyes… Deep, dark green, the colour of forest, flecked with gold and warm honey tones. This close, it was like he was seeing them properly for the first time…Too busy being irritated with each other, that’s why…
“What? Oh, yes. Of course. I can understand that. Managing a hotel, especially one as prestigious as The New House, it’s the same. The job doesn’t just come first, it becomes all consuming. So much gets pushed to the side, it all but disappears. It’s not the healthiest of attitudes, but it is what it is.” Luca took a sip of coffee to push down the lump that had formed in his throat at all those things he’d shoved to the side over the years, to make room for his career. Hobbies. Friends. Family. A lover.
Luca glanced up, the pull of Adrian’s gaze unavoidable. Serious, thoughtful. Regretful.
“That’s true,” Adrian said slowly, as though tasting the words. “There are some things that have to take priority. Doesn’t mean that won’t or can’t change. But some people can’t or won’t see beyond that.” He broke their gaze and nodded at the bag. “So, what are the books? Sorry.” He frowned. “Not my business.”
